Still Hanging On
by WindyCanyon
Summary: Arthur is walking home one evening when he comes upon a lonely man on a bridge. He strikes up a conversation, thinking the man is close to jumping off. He thinks Romano is a glorious man, although very bitter and cynical, and quickly falls for him.


**Still Hanging On**

...

**Prologue  
**

Fog rolled over the cold bay, hiding the black waters from view, but he still knew they were there, waiting the catch him in their grasp. The cold air cut through his coat, he pulled it closer, and chuckled softly. Soon he wouldn't have to feel the cold around him or the pain in his aching heart. He would be free...

The freezing metal burned into his hands as he climbed up on the railing of the destitute bridge and gazed up at the darkened sky, flicking his cigarette into the white mist below. That was his last cigarette, now he was completely alone. Standing on this lonely bridge and looking at the inky sky, not a star in sight, make him remember the warm apartment he left and the brother he's leaving behind. He wasn't worried for the people he'd leave, they wouldn't miss him long. His younger brother had chosen this night to sleep over with his friend, although he suspected that 'friend' was more than just a friend, but that was fine (even though he despised his brother's German 'friend'); he knew his brother would be well taken care of, there was no reason to stay.

Robotic-like, he went through everything in his head. He had no lover to say goodbye to or to make him regret his decision. All his finances were in order and all his savings would join with his brother's accounts upon his death. Even though he knew everything was as it should be, something still felt unfinished. He merely closed his eyes and shrugged. Whatever he'd forgotten to do would have to remain undone, he would not be coming back to fix it.

He slowly tipped his body forward, upsetting his balance, and fell. He left behind the only place he ever felt peace at with one regret he could not name. The icy waters rushed to meet him, but he didn't feel the water soak his heavy clothing and drag him down. He'd searched for release from the world and the fall knocked him from consciousness and the unforgiving water finished the job and smothered the breath from his lips.

It would be two days before his brother would report him missing, clutching the note that only said "Addio." And it would be another three days before the police found his body washed up on the rocky shores of the bay.

_Lovino Vargas died January 11 at the age of 22. His body was found five days after his death._

* * *

Arthur strolled slowly down the dimly lit street, exhausted from working two jobs full-time and part-timers on the side. Despite his weariness, the cold air made him walk faster to keep his bones from going stiff. His breath formed a white cloud in front of him and he tried to spare his fingers from the cold by pushing them deeper into his jacket pockets, not that it helped much. He'd been the one chosen to close the bar this week, a task no one liked when the months grew cold and unforgiving to any fool that wandered into winter's grip.

He came to the bridge he usually took during the day to cross the river, but hesitated. At night, with only the dim lighting of a single lamp to illuminate his way, the usually cheerful bridge looked ominous and spooky. He would have expected the bridge to be empty at this hour of the night, but a man sat on the railing, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. Arthur watched the man cautiously and slowly walked down the bridge.

The man didn't look at him and only moved to take a drag from the cigarette. As he got close, he could make out more of the man. He wore a dark green jacket that went well with his dark hair, almost black in the shadows. His dark profile only hinted at the solemn expression the man wore. Arthur continued to walk until he passed him, then he stopped and looked back at the man, something tugged at him. His feet seemed to move on their own according, drawing him close to the stranger.

"Is the view nice?" He asked, resting against the railing.

The man jumped, his eyes bright with surprise, and nearly fell off the railing, but easily kept his balance. "N-Not really..."

He looked out at the pitch waters, unable to distinguish the river from the banks; then glanced back to the man, who now glared at him with wary suspicion. "What? I'm not going to mug you, if that is what you're thinking."

"I'm not." The man brought the cigarette to his lips again and blew smoke into the open air. A freezing wind pushed the smoke back at them, but he strangely didn't smell the pungent scent; he figured the cold finally killed his nose.

"Cigarettes are bad for you. I personally can't stand the smell of them," Arthur commented.

"None of that really matters to someone already dead."

Come on, now. No need to sound so bloody depressing," he said, taking the man as being dramatic. "My name is Arthur. It's nice to meet you, by the way." Arthur held out his hand politely.

The man stared at him with a strange expression. "You can call me Romano, I guess." He slowly shook his hand. The brunette's hands seemed made of ice and burned his hand even through his thick gloves.

"Bloody hell! Your hands are freezing!"

"Oh, really? I hadn't fucking noticed," Romano said sarcastically.

"Don't be an arse." He frowned at the harsh tone in Romano's voice.

Romano only gave him a one fingered reply.

"You're quite rude."

"Deal with it or go away, asshole."

Arthur had never dealt with such a bitter human being before and his patience was quickly draining, although something in him told him not to leave yet. Maybe it was the agonized look in Romano's eyes or the way he kept gazing longingly at the inky waters below. "I don't think jumping off this bridge will solve your problems."

"How do you know?" Romano glared at him angrily.

"I don't," he answered honestly, "But what will dying fix?"

"No one ever needed me around. I'm as good as dead as I was alive," Romano seemed to speak mostly to himself now.

"I'm sure someone needs you around..." The loneliness in Romano's voice made his heart cringe for the young man. He wasn't one to give his pity out easily, but something about this man made him seem so lost and alone. "And I doubt the water is deep enough to kill you, anyway."

"Do you see that bench right there?" Romano pointed to the wooden bench right next to him. "Read the plaque on it."

He frowned at the order, but curiosity won over his rebellious side and he walked to the bench. It was relatively new, the wood still pretty and untainted like no one had sat there. "Lovino Vargas," he read aloud, "1990 to 2012..."

"He jumped off this bridge and died, so don't go spouting bullshit if you don't even know what you're talking about."

"Sorry." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling like an insensitive twat. "I just don't want you to die... I mean, you seem like a decent chap if you would just stop being rude."

Romano climbed off the railing and sat on the bench. "I know, bastard. Now, get out of here. Your hands are shaking."

"I stopped feeling them long ago." Arthur rubbed his hands together vigorously and blew on them, but the warm air didn't do anything to take the edge off the cold.

Romano let out a short chuckle and shook his head. "Go on, idiot. I'm sure you got someone waiting for you where ever you live."

"I live alone, actually. I haven't had a lover in years and all my family lives in England," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "All that's waiting for me is a cold, drafty apartment."

The brunette full-out laughed this time, filling the freezing air with the pleasant sound. "Lonely bastard," Romano said and flicked the last of his cigarette off the bridge.

"I quite like being alone, thank you very much." He huffed, but felt better for making the man laugh, even if it was at his own expense. "What are you doing out here when it's so bloody cold?"

"I like it out here, but it's really none of your fucking business," Romano grumbled, then peeked at him from the corner of his eye. "What are _you_ doing out here?"

"None of your fucking business," Arthur threw back at the man with a smirk, earning a glare in return. "Do you have another fag— I mean, cigarette?"

"I know what you mean, bastard, and no, that was my last one." Romano looked at him strangely. "You just said you could stand the smell."

"Did I mention I'm a hypocrite?" Arthur let the corner of his mouth twitch into a faint, tired smile.

"Your nose is fucking dripping. Go home, it's too cold for you." Romano scowled at him.

"What about you?" Arthur cupped his hands over his nose and breathed out, hoping to warm his hands along with his frozen nose. Frosted air streamed out from between his fingers, creating a cloud around his face. "Are you not cold?"

"I'm fine, weirdo. Why the hell are you concerned about a fucking stranger?"

He shrugged and answered, "I'm human, humans have compassion for one another. Now I must bid you farewell, please don't jump as soon as I walk away."

Romano frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'll see you tomorrow." Arthur didn't really know if he'd see Romano again, as he walked away, but he doubted this would be their last meeting.

* * *

The next day, Arthur checked the news for any suicide deaths and was almost happy to find it filled with murders and accidents, but no suicides. As soon as he got off work, late again like the night before, he headed in the direction of the bridge. The night was not as cold as yesterday, but he could still feel the chill through his great coat and thick sweater beneath.

His feet took him down the alley that crossed over and came out by the bridge. No lights guided him, but the moon sent a sliver of light down into the dark alleyway to lead the way out to the bridge. Romano sat upon the bench, another cigarette resting between his lips.

"Hello," he called out.

Romano looked up in surprise and the cigarette dropped out of his lips. "Fuck!" He exclaimed and retrieved the smoldering bud from his lap. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, wanker," he said wryly and took a seat next to Romano. Arthur pulled a paper bag from his coat.

"What's that?" Romano leaned forward slightly, staring curiously at the bag.

"Drugs." He chuckled at Romano's shocked expression. "It's just my supper."

"Bastard," the dark-haired man grumbled, a pout pulling at his lips. Even so, he watched Arthur take out a styrofoam to-go box.

"Would you care for a french fry?" He offered the cold food to Romano, but from the way the man reacted, you'd think he was offering poison. "Is that a no?"

"I hate fucking potatoes and I hate the French!" Romano stuck his tongue out in childish disgust.

He rolled his eyes and ate. "The French didn't even create french fries. What do you like to eat?"

"Pizza, but not that shitty American kind; pasta with lots of tomato sauce." Romano stared longingly into space, his tongue running over his slightly chapped lips. "I miss real Italian food... Not the shit the Americans pass off as Italian."

"What's real Italian food like?"

"The best stuff on Earth. If you're curious, on sixth street there's a restaurant called Roma's, they serve the best Italian food in this godforsaken city. They're not expensive either," Romano said, eyeing his patchy jeans and worn-out shoes knowingly.

Arthur merely nodded and took a bite out of his cold burger. It was another night he was eating left-overs from the diner he worked at. After so many nights of old burgers and fries, hearty Italian food sounded wonderful.

"Do you only eat fucking burgers?"

"Goodness, no. I prefer to have good batch of fish 'n' chips, but I haven't gotten any good ones since I left London." Arthur stared wistfully at the sliver of the moon above them, wondering how his homeland was fairing.

"I went to London once, a long time ago. It rained too fucking much and the food tasted like shit. Kinda like this place." Romano gestured to the city buildings on either side of them and crushed his cigarette under his shoe.

He glared at the brunette. "Don't you have anything nice to say about London?"

"The view from the London Eye was beautiful," Romano said softly, almost to himself. "I loved the way the city glowed with lights at night."

The brunette stared into space, recalling forgotten memories. "But that still doesn't change the fact the food fucking sucked."

"You were so close to actually sounding nice," he mumbled, taking another bite of burger.

"Not even fucking close. Every place I've been to had some kind of beauty to it, even this godawful city, but the shitty things always out weigh the good."

"Not always..."

"Always. The world is a fucked up place, any good is always over-shadowed by some bad." Lovino clenched his hands into fists. "Even the moon has its shadow..."

They sat in silence. Arthur couldn't disagree, because the world was indeed extremely fucked up. But to him, it seemed Lovino had given up all hope for the world and its people. Even with all the problems floating around, there was still happiness in the world. People could be as kind as they are cruel, but a single act of kindness is worth ten cruel actions, if only people would see it that way. It seemed everyone, even (and especially) the media, focused too much on the terrible events and not enough on the good.

"Everything has its own ugliness, but it's a matter of it you're willing to ignore the ugly and live with the beauty that's in everything around you." He could feel Romano's eyes on him, staring at him like he was a new type of animal.

"You should be a fucking poet. Your words are too pretty to be said out loud like that."

"They're true," he huffed. "Take yourself as an example."

Romano glared at him. "What the fuck do you mean, dammit?"

"Well, you swear like a sailor and scowl like nothing in this world can please you, but I think you're just a lonely man, who's been beaten down too many times by life to even try to find joy in living anymore," Arthur explained, watching Lovino from the corner of his eye.

Lovino turned his face away, reaching into his coat and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "That sounds about right," the man said, balancing another cigarette between is lips. "The world is a shit house and I stopped caring about what happens in it."

Arthur eyed the dark-haired man silently and took a fry into his mouth. "What's a fish with no eyes?"

"I don't fucking know." Romano lit the cigarette in is mouth and glared at him suspiciously.

"It's an _fsssssh_."

Silence stretched between them until Romano broke down into a fit of laughter. "That is the worst fucking joke I've ever heard!"

He smiled, glad to relieve the tense feeling that hung around Romano like the smoke from his cigarette, even if it was only for a short while. "I know. It's bloody terribly, but the stupidity of it makes nearly everyone smile."

"Where the fuck did you even hear a joke like that? It's so bad!" Romano let out another chuckle and took a long drag from his cigarette.

"A friend of mine use to work at a sushi bar. He was never one to tell jokes, but he was quite fond of that one." Arthur chuckled and tossed his food into a nearby trash can. "He was a strange one."

"Was? You speak of him in past tense." Romano watched him curiously, blowing smoke out more slowly.

"I moved from New York and left him behind a long time ago." His nose twitched as he watched the smoke float by, but the smell strangely didn't reach his senses. "What about you? From the disdain you hold for this city, I assume this is not you home?"

"Aren't you the fucking genius," Romano said sarcastically, "But yes, you're correct. I'm from Italia."

"That explains the accent, I almost thought you were Spanish," he admitted.

Romano scoffed loudly and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Don't insult me. The Spanish are fucking stupid."

"I'm guessing you don't like the Spanish?" He asked in amused tone.

"Well, you're on a roll. There was this fucking transfer student, didn't speak a damn word of English or Italian, that use to follow me around and spout shit I didn't understand," Romano grumbled, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"It sounds like he had a crush on you."

"Fuck no!" Romano shook his entire body, as if to rid himself of the thought, but he saw Romano's cheeks grow brighter. "I would _never _date that guy!"

"Awh, you never even gave the poor bloke a chance," he teased. "He could have been your soul mate and you will never know now, because you refused to even consider the option of dating him."

"He was not my soul mate, trust me. I looked up some of the things the bastard said to me once, that only confirmed my suspicion he was as fucking stupid as he looked." Romano's hand cut the air in a horizontal motion, finalizing Romano's statement.

He watched Romano's hands settle back into his lap. "What did he say to offend you so?"

"Well, for one, he compared me to a fucking tomato!" His hand jerked up into the air. "And when he wasn't calling me his 'little tomato', he was always telling me I was b-beautiful— He was so annoying!"

Arthur observed Romano's hands in amusement. When ever the Italian talked, they moved as if to speak with him, and when he stopped talking, they also stopped. "Hm, excuse me for asking, but why is that bad?"

"Because he didn't mean it..." At this, Romano's hands didn't move. Arthur glanced up to find him staring into space.

"How do you know...?"

"He spoke the same way to my brother." Romano shook his head. "Feliciano's the cute one, not me."

Arthur stared at Romano and frowned. To him, the Italian reminded him of a cup of coffee. His nose and jaw strong like the taste, and his hair as smooth and dark as the liquid that filled many cups on cold mornings. Even Romano's personality had its similarities; his bitter views on the world and robust attitude mirrored the drink. He'd never been much of a coffee drinker, but he loved the smell and coloring of popular drink.

"I must disagree, you are a glorious man."

Romano's face turned a lovely shade of red and he could see how he'd be compared to a tomato. "Shut the fuck up! You're only saying that, because you've never seen my brother."

"I doubt I'd change my mind, even if I did see him."

"Fine." Romano reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it for him to see.

Inside it was a single picture in the plastic sleeve. The photo showed two smiling boys standing shoulder to shoulder, one with dark-brown hair, and obviously Romano, and the other a much lighter boy who seemed to radiate happiness even in the picture. Behind them, a man had his arms wrapped around the two boys, but the picture was folded over at the corner and covered the man's face.

"I think..." Arthur couldn't take his eyes off Romano's smiling face. He really did look amazing when he smiled and it actually lit up his eyes. "I think you're even more beautiful when you smile."

The other man's face grew a brighter red and he scooted to the corner of the bench. "Shut the fuck up, dammit..."

He chuckled and brought a hand up to cover his own embarrassed blush. Did _I just say that? Oh bollocks... That was really cheesy._ He felt like a boy trying to compliment a girl on their first date. "My apologies if that offended you," he mumbled.

When Romano didn't say anything, he looked over and found the spot beside him empty. Arthur whipped his head around, searching for the dark-haired brunette, but it seemed he'd disappeared.

"Well, goodbye to you too," he grumbled and checked him watch and shoved his hand in his pockets, getting up and walking to his home.

* * *

Arthur stomped up to where the Italian leaned up against the railing of the bridge. "Oi! Romano!"

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Why'd you just disappear last night, wanker? I was talking with you!"

Romano's cheeks flushed, but he blamed it on the cold air. "What does it matter to you, bastard? You needed to get home before it got too late."

"You could have at least said goodbye, not go off to god knows where! Do you realize how rude that was?" Arthur scolded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sorry! Don't give me that look," Romano huffed, his lips forming into a pout. "I'm not a fucking child."

He rolled his eyes, annoyance radiating off him in waves. "Your manners suggest you are a fucking child."

"I don't have to put up with this shit from you!" Romano poked a finger at him, not actually touching him. "If you got a problem, get the fuck away!"

"Why should I? This bridge is a bloody fucking public place, you twat!"

"Well, I'm not fucking leaving!" Romano's hand crushed the cigarette it held.

"I'm not either," Arthur growled stubbornly.

"Fuck off!" The Italian turned away from him. "I don't have to talk to you, dammit!"

"That's _so_ bloody mature! Two can play at that childish game!" He dropped on to the bench, sitting with his back to Romano.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They sat in silence, both set on ignoring each other for as long as possible. The cold quickly set into his bones and his anger faded, but his pride and stubbornness made him keep his silence. Only when his feet began to lose feeling did he stand up and stomp warmth back into them. He sat back down and glanced at Romano, renewing his stubbornness when he saw the other man hadn't moved.

It felt like hours passed and his eyes slowly shut. Whether it was the cold or the constant exhaustion hung on his limps like weights that forced him to relax. Sleep quickly took over his mind and smothered him with its soft, lulling embrace, giving his weary bones the rest they needed.

"Arthur! Arthur! Wake up! ARTHUR!"

Somewhere in his dulled, sleep hazed mind, a voice called frantically to him, worry lacing its melodious tone. Arthur knew something must be dearly wrong and that voice drew him closer, slowly coaxing his eyes open.

In front of him, Romano's anxious eyes came into focus. Romano's face was so close to his, he should have felt the man's warm breath, but strangely he felt no such thing. "What...?"

"Don't fall asleep, you bastard!" Romano quickly moved away once he was certain of Arthur's wakefulness.

He rubbed the last of sleep from his eyes and looked around. Small flakes drifted down lazily, reflecting off the yellow light from the single lamppost. As he became more aware, Arthur realized he could barely feel his body. "Shit on a fuck muffin!" He exclaimed and jumped up, rubbing his hands together.

Romano watched him with guarded concern. "Go home. It's too cold for you to stay here."

"Yeah, thanks for waking me." He brushed snow off his shoulders and couldn't help but notice the lack of the powdery substance on Romano, as if it dare not cling to him.

The Italian shrugged and let out a loud huff. "Be more careful, dammit."

No white cloud blew out when Romano breathed. He found this particularly strange, but his exhausted mind didn't linger long on it. "I will. Good night, Romano."

"Buonnanotte. Oh, and Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Shit on a fuck muffin?" Romano smirked at him, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

His cheeks flushed brightly and he stomped away, the lovely sound of Romano's laughter following him all the way home.

* * *

"Oi! What in the blooming hell do you think you're doing?" He came running up.

Romano sat on the railing of the bridge, not bothering to look up at Arthur. "Smoking."

"I can see that, git. I mean, what are you doing on the railing?"

"Sitting."

"No shit! Get down from there!"

"No."

"You're going to fall!"

The Italian smirked mischievously at him. They had become quick friends, always meeting at night on the bridge. He found Romano sarcastic and surly, but the Italian was more than willing to have a battle of wits with him, although his insults were often weird and outrageous. "Wanna see something cool?"

"Of course not! I want you to get down, you twat!"

Romano brought his feet up under him and slowly stood up on the railing, much to his horror. The Italian poised himself on the thin, metal piping with ease, his arms out on either side of him. Romano smirked down at him, walking a few steps.

"Oh my god, you're going to fall! Romano, get down!" He waved his arms frantically, trying to think up ways of getting the brunette down without accidentally pushing him off the railing.

"Stop freaking out, bastard. I'm not going to fall." Romano put his hands on his hips and pouted at him.

Arthur glared at Romano. "How are you even doing that? And I am not freaking out!"

"Then I'm not fucking around enough." Romano put his hands on the rails and slowly brought his feet up over his head.

"Bloody hell! Are you some kind of acrobat?"

"Nope, just a chef." Romano smiled at him upside down and walked on his hands.

He put his hands over his over his eyes. "I'm not going to see you fall. I can't watch."

"Grow up— Oh shit!"

Arthur quickly opened his eyes. Romano was no longer on the railing. "Romano? Romano!" He ran to the rails and looked down, searching the dark waters below for a body. "Oh my god! Romano!"

"You looking for me?"

He whirled around and found Romano sitting on the bench, grooming his nails. "You fucking asshole! I thought you fell!"

"That's what you get for worrying over nothing." Romano grinned smugly at him.

"Why are you even able to do that? You could have died if you'd really fallen!"

"Yeah, I could have, but I didn't, you worrywart. I've done that shit so many times before." The Italian waved a hand carelessly.

"_Why?_ What would possess you to do that on a bloody bridge where you could fall and die!"

The Italian perused his lips and taped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, say you come out here every night for years, alone. You'd get bored, right?"

"Bored, yes. Bloody stupid, no." Arthur took a seat next to Romano and crossed his arms. "You scared me half to death."

"Don't pout, bastard. I was just fucking around." Romano took out a cigarette and placed it in his lips, not lighting it immediately.

"It's fucking around that nearly got me bloody deported. _Twice_," Arthur grumbled.

Romano shifted his body to face him fully. "This is a story I have to hear. What kind of fucked up crowd are you running with?"

"Just a bunch of blokes from a bar I go to decided it would be great fun to drop my roving drunk ass off at the police station with the idea of having a bomb strapped to my chest. I don't know how they managed to convinced the gits I was dangerous when they were falling over drunk like me, but I wake up the next morning in a cell, naked, with the threat of being deport over my head like the bloody French guillotine." Arthur frowned at the memory and uncrossed his arms. "The twats just laughed about it the next day."

"They sound like assholes."

"That's what I get for having bar friends. They're selfish wankers, the lot of them."

Romano took out a lighter and lit his cigarette. "Then why be friends with them?"

"It's better than drinking alone."

The Italian let out a short laugh. "Lonely bastard. You're like me, only I come out here with a pack of friends." Romano blew out smoke, holding his cigarette almost tenderly.

"I think you're on a whole different level of lonely."

Instead of getting angry like he expected, Romano just let out a sharp laugh. "I guess you're right, bastard. I've never had many friends, except the ones I've bought from a store."

"I'm sure that's not true. I bet you have friends, you just don't know it." Arthur tried to nudge the Italian with his elbow, but Romano scooted away. He ignored it and said playfully, "You can always consider me a friend."

"Cheh."

"Or, if you want, we can always be more than friends." Arthur enjoyed see Romano's head whip around to stare at him, his face turning red.

"W-What?"

He laughed. Romano raise his fist as if to punch him, but let it tremble in the air and instead let out a spew of curse in Italian. "You're an ass!"

"I know, I know." He held up his hand if Romano did hit him, because he suspected the Italian could pack a punch.

The brunette huffed loudly and crossed his arms, grumbling curses.

"Awh, don't feel bad. I'm just joking." He leaned closer to catch Romano's eye, trying to make him flustered again, but Romano blew smoke in his face and he jerked back. "Oi! Don't do that!"

"If you know what's good for you, you won't play the games with fire." Romano smirked seductively and run his hand up his thigh so lightly, he didn't feel the touch.

"Who said anything about play? I want to get burned," he said quietly, leaning closer to Romano, his eyes glued to the Italian's full lips.

Romano chuckled and moved away, blowing smoke in his face again. "Forget it, bastard. I was just messing around with you, idiot."

Arthur pouted and leaned back on the bench. "Bloody tease."

"I'd be a tease if I was actually offering you anything, but I'm not." The Italian took a long drag from the cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke.

"That's too bad, I love to have a nice romp," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Ah, nothing. What's your brother like?" He was sure Romano would punch him if he repeated what he said.

"Uh..." Romano gave him a strange look. "Well... His name is Feliciano. He's the cutesy type, into girly things like stuffed animals, flowers, and fashion. The idiot is stupid and weak, unable to take care of himself, but well loved by everyone."

"He sounds like a nice lad." Arthur smiled.

"Yeah. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You got any siblings?"

"Three older brothers: Alistair, Owen, and Seamus. And one older sister, Alaine."

Romano looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Tell me about them."

"Ah, well, there's not much to tell." Arthur hesitated, but sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Seamus and Alaine are twins, they hate me. Alistair especially hates me. Owen doesn't have enough balls to stand up to any of them, so he might as well hate me. But don't let that color your opinion of them, they're good...just not to me most of the time."

He saw Romano's hand raise, as if to touch him, but the Italian dropped it back into his lap and glared unhappily at the cigarette in his hand. "Sounds rough."

"My childhood wasn't that bad." That was a lie, but he didn't care.

"Bullshit. I've been on both sides of that stick and it's shitty all 'round."

Arthur looked at Romano in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You're the youngest. You probably looked up to your brothers and tried to please them, but they hated you no matter what you did, right? I've hated and been hated, it's rough." Romano's hand crushed the cigarette in his hand.

He automatically tried to put his hand on Romano's, but the Italian jerked his hand away and dropped the crushed cigarette on the ground. "Yeah, it was rough, but we sorted it out before I left for here... I don't know what got into them, but they surprised me with one of the nicest farewells. They knew I wouldn't be going back."

The Italian nodded, oddly silent.

"Would you go back? To Italy, I mean," he said after a while.

"I'd do anything to go back, but I can't now."

"Why?"

"I just...can't..." Romano took out another cigarette, quickly lighting up and puffing out smoke like a dragon. "So, why don't you go back to London?"

"Uh... There's nothing there for me, unless I wanted to go back to being a boring businessman taking the tube everyday. Although that's not much worst than what I'm doing now, working two jobs, not to mention all the odds and ends I can get."

Romano frowned at him. "Are you in need of money that badly?"

"No, but it keeps my busy. What kind of job do you work? Did I hear you say chef?"

"Yes, I cook for a living." Romano puffed more nervously. "I love cooking. I love cooking for people. I don't love people. They destroy dreams."

"Is that why you're such a cynic?"

"Cheh, I was born like this."

He rolled his eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

"Go to hell, then. Maybe I wasn't born like this, but it's how I grew up. It's best to be cynical, so nothing bad surprises you." Romano stood up, moved to look over the railing.

"God, you're so negative. What happened to you? Mummy, daddy problems?" Arthur was growing annoyed with Romano's constant spitefulness.

"Both of them died before I was old enough to walk, but you're getting closer," Romano sneered at him, glaring at him reproachfully, and gripped the railing tightly, "My grandfather treated me like shit and loved on my brother like he was the most wonderful thing ever, I hate them both for that. I was _nothing_ when put next to my brother! Excuse me if that made me bitter!"

Romano stalked towards him, misery plain in his eyes and the desire to hurt as well. "But you understand that, don't you? Your brothers hated you. My grandfather hated me. Aren't we a fucking pair? A lonely, unloved pair! But you - You've been loved before. I can see it in your eyes, dammit! So, what do you understand?"

"Romano..." Arthur hadn't expected this level of pain to come pouring out of the other man, flowing out the cracks in Romano's hard mask. He hadn't even know Romano held in so much heartache, and to see it all come streaming out along with his tears, shook him more than it should have. "I'm sorry..."

"No... Just shut up." Romano moved away, dragging a sleeve across his eyes. "Go away... Leave."

"I really am sorry..." Arthur got up and reluctantly walked away.

* * *

He walked up slowly and sat down, choosing to be silent as Romano smoked his cigarette. The night was cold, colder than usual, and cut through his clothing like a knife. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep his hands warm.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" He stared at Romano in surprise. Arthur hadn't anticipate Romano to apologize first, if at all.

"I'm not gonna say it again." The Italian brought the cigarette to his lips, a scowl turning down the corner of his lips.

Arthur sighed deeply. "I'm sorry too."

"Yeah... It's just..."

"You don't have to explain, I was a bit like you once."

Romano was silent and the only sound was the wind blowing around them.

He searched for something to say, but the only thing that came to mind were silly questions. "_So__..._ What's your favorite hot drink?"

"Coffee."

"I've never quite cared for coffee, but I love tea."

The Italian glanced at him. "I've never had tea before."

"Do you mean to tell me you've never had tea before?" Arthur asked in disbelief.

"That's exactly what I fucking said." Romano chuckled at his amusing expression. "I've just never had any."

"But...I'm going to get you a cup of tea."

Romano's amused smile disappeared into his usual scowl, although Arthur had begun to see less of those scowls. "Don't."

"Why? You need to try it! It's the best bloody stuff on Earth!"

"You sound like a fucking Snapple commercial." Romano's mouth tried to twitch into a smile, but he held its corner down.

"That's shite tea. I mean the stuff I drink every morning that I brew myself," he said proudly.

"Every morning?"

"Every morning," he confirmed.

"I wonder how much money you would save if you dropped the stuff."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Probably a lot. I wonder how much you would save if you quit smoking."

"Probably a lot." They shared a smile and, as if to prove his point, Romano pulled out a cigarette and lit up.

Once again, the scentless smoke drifted past his nose, but no strong smell reached him. "What's with your cigarettes?" He asked, talk of tea forgotten.

"What do you fucking mean?" Romano looked at his cigarette to see if something had changed.

"I can never smell the smoke."

"Your nose must be stupid."

"It can't be! I can smell, just not your cigarettes." Arthur frowned and sniffed the air. "Are they those water-vapor ones?"

"It's just a fucking cigarette, bastard. The kind you find on the floor of every cheap strip joint or trashy street corner." Romano held it closer to his face to show him. It was just a typical Marlboro. "You wouldn't see me crushing an expensive-ass cigarette like that under my foot."

"I know, but...it's strange."

"And when have I struck you as fucking normal?"

He laughed. "I suppose never. I only ever see you on this fucking bridge at night when it's too bloody cold."

"Bastard, go home if you're cold."

"But I'm having such a cozy time with you here." Arthur scooted closer, causing the other man to scoot away. He continued to move closer until Romano had no more room to move away, but before he could touch Romano like he planned, Romano stood up.

"Fucking child." Romano leaned against the railing, his cheeks tinted red.

He nearly pouted. Arthur had seen Romano many days now, but nearly all attempts to flirt with the Italian had just made the man shy away. It was obvious Romano held some form of attraction for him from the way he blushed at his advances and sometimes, on the rare occasion, flirted back. Arthur stared at Romano thoughtfully. Maybe a direct approach would work better.

"Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?" He frowned at Romano's evasive manner.

"Because I said so."

"You know I like you."

"Yeah..." Romano's voice grew soft and he refused to look at Arthur.

"You like me back."

Romano's silence was enough of an answer.

"Then why...?"

"It wouldn't work."

"You haven't even tried yet! Look, Romano, I _really_...like you..." Arthur stood up and reached to grab Romano's hand, but before he could, Romano jerked away. "Please..."

"I can't!" Romano finally looked at him, his eyes shinning with agony and fear. "You don't understand..."

"Then help me understand! I'm offering you my heart..." In truth, his heart had been Romano's long before he knew.

"Oh, Dio... Why do you do this to me now..." Romano mumbled to himself and cast his glassy eyes towards the sky, revealing his tortured soul for a split second.

"Romano... Please, I think I'm in—"

"Don't say it! P-Please..." Hazel eyes barely contained Romano's tears and pain, and he whispered, "Don't make me regret my decision..."

"But..." Arthur hated the way Romano shrank away from him and the sorrowful expression that marred his beautiful face.

"If you...want to understand, come here tomorrow during the day," Romano said quickly, as if to get it out before he changed his mind, and backed away. "Someone will explain it to you."

"Who?" He took a step towards Romano, but the Italian ran and disappeared where the light ended and the shadows began. Arthur sat down, the pain in his chest growing unbearable. His poor heart finally found someone to love, but that person seemed intent on running away. He needed to know why.

* * *

That next morning, Arthur called his boss and took one of his sick days. Romano hadn't told him who he was meeting or what time to meet them, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to go around noon. The only problem, noon was a long time to wait for.

When mid-day drew near, Arthur threw on his coat and hurried out. During the day, their bridge was almost as empty as during their quiet nights together. He sat on their bench and watched the few people pass him by without a second glance. Someone sat down next to him, but he didn't look at the person until he heard a loud sniffle. Arthur glanced over and found Romano's brother sitting there.

"You!"

"M-Me?" Romano's brother gave him a fearful, teary-eyed stare, drastically different from the beaming boy in the picture Romano showed him.

"Are you alright?" Arthur remember his manners, feeling concern for the brother Romano cared so much for.

"N-Not really..." Feliciano's eyes overflowed with tears and a few slipped down his cheeks. "This is the day my older brother d-died... I miss him so much..."

He was sure this was Romano's brother, but Romano wasn't dead. Maybe Romano had another brother? "Was your brother's name Romano?"

Feliciano gave him a wide, doe-eyed look. "Romano was his middle name, Lovino Romano Vargas... Did you know him?"

"Yes, I consider him a close friend." He stared at Feliciano in confusion. "But we can't be talking of the same man... Romano is very much alive."

"W-Would you like to see a picture...? I don't want to cause you any unnecessary confusion..."

"Please, if it's no trouble..."

Feliciano took out a picture from inside his jacket and gave it to him. "It's the only time he ever smiled in a picture... That was before Nonno died..."

He stared wide-eyed at the photo. It was the same one Romano showed him, but the corner didn't hide the face of the man with his arms around the two brothers. _This can't be right..._

"He's been g-gone a year now... First Nonno, then him... I'd be all alone if Luddy wasn't with me," Feliciano continued, oblivious to Arthur's horrified expression.

"T-That can't be right..."

"What?"

Arthur set the photo down, his eyes wide. "I saw him last night... He can't be dead!"

The often man gave him a fearful stare. "Lovi k-killed himself a year ago...jumping off this bridge... Whoever you saw wasn't my b-brother..."

He stood abruptly and clenched his hand to keep them from shaking. "I'm sorry for your loss...but I think we're speaking of different men..."

"I-I hope so..."

"Goodbye... I'll let you mourn in peace."

His feet took off at full speed, and he didn't notice the transparent figure watching him. By the time he stopped running, he really did feel sick. Arthur let himself slow to a walk, his mind denying Feliciano's words. Romano can't be dead...

But then he remembered the first full sentence Romano said to him. _None of that really matters to someone already dead_. Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. He needed to see Romano and straighten this out.

He glanced at his watch. It was still early, just edging on the afternoon, but still far from nighttime. This didn't stop him, he needed to know the truth. It made sense for Romano— Lovino to be dead, but he didn't want it to be true.

...

He bide his time by wandering around the city. As he was passing down sixth street, he saw an Italian restaurant. The sign read Roma's and on the spur of the moment, he went inside. It was nice inside, comfortable, safe. He could see why Romano liked the place so much.

The waitress seated him in the corner and on the wall by his table, a picture hung. A man scowled at the camera and casually flipped off whoever was taking the picture and someone had put a sticker of a tomato over the offending finger. Arthur stared at Romano's handsome face, barely noticing the waitress when she returned.

"Sir?"

"Did you know this man?"

"That was the owner and a close friend..."

Arthur looked up and saw the girl staring mournfully at the photo. "You know what happened to him then."

"He died last year... Today in fact. Lovino put everything he had into this restaurant, but it never gave back as much as it took..." The girl sniffled, her green eyes shiny with tears. "I'm sorry, sir... Would you like something to drink?"

"Water. I'm ready to order, also."

"What would you like?"

"Pasta, extra tomato sauce."

The girl nearly burst into tears, but bravely held it together. "I'll have your order right out."

He watcher her walk away quickly, dabbing at her eyes. Arthur let his thoughts drift, his mind caught between denying Romano's probable death and accepting the loss, but something in him wouldn't allow him to settle on either of those options. He was too practical to deny the truth, but too attached to accept the loss.

"Mister."

A plate of steaming food was set in from of him, but instead of the girl serving him, a tall man towered over him. "Thank you."

The man nodded, his expression unreadable, and walked away.

The food was amazing, better than Romano could ever describe it. Flavors and spices melded, twined together in a tapestry of deliciousness. He wondered how much better it would be if Romano himself had cooked it. When the waiter came back, his empty plate was replaced with another.

"Wait, I didn't order this."

"It's on the house."

Arthur looked at the spikey-haired man in confusion. "But why?"

"You knew Lovino."

"How do you know I did?"

"You ordered Lovino's favorite dish. A friend of Lovino's gets free food here." The waiter's hard, green eyes stared at him.

"Oh...Thank you..."

"Don't thank me. Lovino only ever wanted to make others smile with his food, even if that desire killed him in the end," the waiter said and walked away.

He stared after the waiter, his words tugging at his thoughts. Arthur forced himself to look at the tube-like pastry with a white filling, and distractedly wondered how he was exactly supposed to eat the tube. Arthur finally gave up the idea of using a fork and just bit in the sweet dessert. It was delicious and he smiled, but it pained him to find joy in it. He finished the pastry quickly and left the cozy restaurant.

Arthur wandered down the street and found that if he turned left, the bridge was right there. He nearly broke into a run when he saw a familiar person leaning against the railing in a manner he'd become use to seeing.

"Lovino..."

"It has been a long time since someone called me by that name," Romano said softly and dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. "But I've always hated that name."

"Is it true...?" Part of him hoped Romano would say no, but when those anguished eyes turned to him, he knew.

"It's true... I am dead."

His heart clenched in his chest and he sucked in a deep breath. Arthur reached out a trembling hand towards Romano and this time, he didn't move away, but when his fingers should have touched Romano's cheek, they felt nothing. His hand passed right through, as if nothing was there. "Oh God..."

"Isn't it ironic...?" A tear rolled down Romano's cheek and Arthur wanted nothing more than to brush it away. "I finally find what I was missing, but now...it's too late."

"Why did I have to find you after you...died?" Arthur felt a lump grow in his throat as he fought to keep his voice steady.

"God's way of punishing me... Not only did he leave me here, the place I tried to escape from, but he sent you just to make me regret my decision..."

"It's not fair..."

"Life isn't fair and neither is God. I'm sorry, Arthur...but this is goodbye."

"No... I can't accept this!" Arthur stared at Romano desperately, pleading with his eyes.

"You've set me free... God made me stay long enough to find what I was missing, but that I've found you, He's making me go again..."

"No...! Romano, you can't... I love you!" Arthur realized he could begin to see through Romano's body to the railing behind him. "Don't go..."

"I'm sorry. Arrivederci..." Romano moved forward and he felt cold lips brush against his cheek. "I love you too, Arthur..."

"Don't leave me..." He tried to grab Romano and hold him close, but his arms closed on empty air. Arthur shut his eyes and didn't dare open them to the emptiness in his arms. Wet drops rolled down his cheeks, but he ignore them and kept his arms wrapped around his aching chest.

Romano was right about it begin ironic, but it was so in more than one way. Arthur had searched so long for the right someone who he could love and be loved back, and just when he knew he found that someone, they were dead. Long dead.

He dropped into the nearby bench and place his face in his hands. Tears dripped from between his fingers and he bit his lip to keep from sobbing loudly. It hurt. It hurt more than any of his other failed relationships.

* * *

Arthur visited and sat at the bench everyday, waiting. But Romano never returned, he knew he would never be there again. And going to the bridge only made him hurt, but it hurt more to stay away. Ever since Romano moved on, Arthur lost interest in working and had even taken up smoking again. He hadn't realized how dull his life had been before Romano offered a bit of color to his work-filled days.

But now Romano was gone, and loneliness plagued him like it never had before. He felt it most when he sat on the bench he had shared with Romano and smoked the same cigarettes Romano had. Grief clung to him - dragged at him - like a second skin, putting thoughts into his head he had never considered even on his most darkest days before he met Romano.

Arthur was tired. Tired of the constant pain, the waking up to tear-dampened pillows, the unfilled empty place in his heart, and most of all, tired of life. There was no one left for him in this world. Romano had been the closest thing to a friend he'd had in years and now even he was gone, and Arthur was alone again. He wanted out.

The idea didn't come to him until weeks after Romano's departure. But once it was there, it took root in his mind, sapping all willpower to do anything else, like a parasite. Even with it preying on his awaking thoughts, he still didn't take action until days later when Feliciano happened into a diner he worked at. Romano's little brother laughed and smiled with some tall blonde by his side, like there wasn't a problem in the world, like his brother wasn't gone. That's when he knew, he grieved for Romano more than any person he'd known during his living days. After seeing that, Arthur took his usual route over the bridge home that night, but he never made it to his shabby apartment.

_Arthur Kirkland, died February 8 at the age of 24._

* * *

**Snapple is a tea drink in the United States. Their motto is "Made from the best stuff on Earth."**

**I wrote this to torture my readers.**

_**-Windy**_


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